


Paint Runs From Your Mouth Like  A Waterfall

by TheseusInTheMaze



Series: Humans and Their Quaint Little Hangups [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bio Engineered Dildo, Consensual Non-Consent, Cream Pie, F/F, Facial, Filming, Groping, Pearl Necklace, face fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24033325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Yaz has another fantasy. The Doctor is happy to go along.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Series: Humans and Their Quaint Little Hangups [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705618
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84





	Paint Runs From Your Mouth Like  A Waterfall

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one of those _it would be hot if ____ fics, because it turns out that I am trying to get more in touch with my shameless side. Title comes from _Tip of the Iceberg_ by Owl City.

Yaz stood at the sink in one of the many kitchens in the TARDIS, and she washed dishes. 

She didn't need to wash the dishes - the Doctor had once gone into incredibly unsettling detail about how the TARDIS created and broke down organic matter. She claimed that was why she could just leave her dishes in the sink. 

Yaz had endured a few too many sighs from her father and lectures from her mother to ever be comfortable leaving dishes in the sink, and besides… she was trying to loiter around appealingly. 

She had never been particularly good at it at the best of times, but… well, she was trying new things. She shifted from foot to foot, the hem of her red dress brushing across her knees, and she tried not to let her anxiety get the best of her. She had dressed like this for a reason. She had made a decision this morning, and she was going to go through with it, goddamn it!

She didn’t look up when she heard the Doctor’s boots on the metal floor, and she bit her lip to keep from saying anything. The Doctor would say something, if she wanted to say something. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be bothered. Yaz had been carrying this fantasy around since she’d seen that video all those years ago, and there was no way she was going to ruin her chances to live it out now. 

The Doctor came up behind Yaz, and Yaz tried to pay attention to the plate she was washing. There were a whole pile of them, and she was methodically scrubbing with the sponge, as the Doctor pressed closer to her. The soap smelled like green apple candy, and it foamed well, across the dark blue plate.The Doctor’s breath was warm on the side of Yaz’s neck, and her body was warm against Yaz’s back. 

Yaz could almost feel the Doctor’s hand hovering over her, and then it was resting on her hip. It was a gentle touch, barely any pressure, but it was enough to make Yaz’s skin break out in goosebumps. 

The Doctor’s other hand came up to Yaz’s belly, pressing down on it, and then it was moving up, towards Yaz’s front. It was such a slow trip, slow enough that it could almost be called accidental. The kind of touch that could be seen as innocuous in a train car or a crowded bus, or maybe jam packed in a concert. It was torture, feeling the warmth of it, and then it was moving up higher, until it rested right over Yaz’s breast. The palm pressed against Yaz’s nipple, which was hard, and it was intense enough that Yaz had to squeeze her eyes shut and breathe through her nose. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the Doctor’s hand was so _warm_ , almost electrical through the thin fabric of her dress. She kept her eyes on the plate, as the Doctor felt her up like it was a thing to get away with. The plate was clean. She set it down on the draining rack, mechanically picked up the next plate, stuck it under the running water. 

She was so overheated, arousal pulsing under her skin, throbbing in her clit. Her breasts tingled where the Doctor was touching them, and her heart was loud in her ears. She gave a little sigh, when the Doctor’s other hand came up, pinching one nipple through the thin red fabric, and then Yaz’s breasts were abandoned, and the Doctor’s hands went to the buttons at the top of the dress. They were methodical, pushing the little bits of plastic through the slits in the fabric, and then there was cool air against Yaz’s collarbone, cool air in the space between her breasts. The Doctor pushed the fabric aside, and then Yaz’s breasts were bared, right there in the kitchen.

It shouldn’t have felt so… scandalous. There wasn’t anyone else in the TARDIS, and she and the Doctor had been naked in random rooms before - in other kitchens, either. She’d eaten the Doctor out on a heavy wooden table that could have had a cow slaughtered on it, the Doctor had fucked her bent over a counter, fingers buried deep inside of Yaz as Yaz clutched at the cool marble countertop. 

But somehow, just having her breasts bared as she tried to pretend nothing was happening, as she washed dishes. She bit her lip, as the Doctor’s cool fingers pinched her nipples, and she reached out mutely to get more soap and pour it over the sponge. She held the plate under the water, and she scrubbed in circular motions as the Doctor rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger, then gave a vicious twist. Yaz let out a choked little sob, and the Doctor chuckled into her neck. 

The Doctor was panting into her skin, and she was kneading Yaz’s breast now, She was squeezing, then pulling back to jiggle. There was a furtive, guilty feel to it, a hesitance, as if she was worried she’d get yelled at. As if she was worried she’d get _caught_. She was taking pleasure in touching Yaz when she shouldn’t have, and the way she touched Yaz was clearly for the delight of her own hand, and had nothing to do with Yaz’s own pleasure. 

Yaz knew it shouldn’t have gotten her so wet, and _yet_. She pressed her thighs together, and she stared down at the dish in her hand, as her breasts were jiggled, the Doctor’s thumbs pressing against her nipples. She was breaking out in more goosebumps, and she curled her toes in her slippers. God, she wanted the Doctor to touch her, she wanted the Doctor to bend her over and fuck her, she wanted this torment to continue forever, until she combusted. She washed two more plates, as the Doctor entertained herself with groping and jiggling, the kind of thing that Yaz usually tried to direct towards other sorts of touch when the two of them were around together. The kind of curious, probing touching that didn’t bring any pleasure or pain, just… explored.

She wasn’t doing any directing this time. She was just taking it. She was just standing at the kitchen sink, and she was taking it. 

The Doctor was rolling her hips now, and the hardness was still pushing against Yaz’s arse. It was warm too, and Yaz wasn’t sure how that worked. The Doctor had more weird sex toys than Yaz could ever imagine, and more besides that. She kept her eyes shut, and she let the Doctor’s hands grope her, as if it was just a thing to do. Every poke and prod seemed to be stoking her arousal, and Yaz was working very hard to keep quiet.

Why was she being quiet? She didn’t know. There were _rules_ to this strange fantasy of hers, and she didn’t know how to explain them, except that she was doing her best to follow them. She was as quiet as she could be, clutching the edge of the sink (and when had she put down the plate, she didn't remember that) as the Doctor ground against her backside and played with her tits. 

_What if she just leaves?_ Yaz thought wildly. _Just feels me up and then walks away, and I'm stuck standing here with damp knickers, washing dishes?_ She didn't know if she was disappointed or relieved when the Doctor's hands left her breasts to go to her arse, taking a handful and squeezing. 

Yaz let herself be pushed forward, her hips angled back. Her skirt was being pushed, and she stared down at the soapy water in the sink. The Doctor’s fingers were cool as they moved up her thighs, to rest on her hips.

The Doctor let go of her, took a step back, and there were various rustling sounds. Yaz resisted the urge to look over her shoulder, and stayed standing there, staring down into the sink. The backs of her legs were cold, and her inner thighs were sticky with her arousal. 

The Doctor pressed against her back again, and now something blunt and sticky was pressed against her inner thigh. It was warm, and it was smearing across her skin. She was beginning to shake, her chest heaving, her nipples hard. The Doctor was clutching at her hips, rubbing along Yaz's arse, pressing into the cleft through the thin cotton of Yaz's knickers. 

_She's humping me like a creep in the subway_ , Yaz thought, and that shouldn't have sent a deep, low throb through her whole body. 

The Doctor was pawing at her breast again, one hand on her hip. She was pressing the head of her cock against Yaz's arsehole, through Yaz's panties, and that was a shock. 

Yaz hadn't really been touched there before, had barely even nudged that while masturbating. She was biting her lip, as the Doctor let go of her hip to readjust.

The Doctor moaned as she pressed the shaft of her cock along the seam of Yaz's labia, over the crotch of Yaz's knickers. It was slick and sticky, and she pinched Yaz's nipple as the head of her cock bumped against Yaz's clit. 

Yaz's cunt clenched around nothing, and she gave a little whimper. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she squeezed her thighs together, trying to trap that lovely pressure right where she wanted it. 

The Doctor chuckled, and she draped herself across Ysz's back. She had both of Yaz's breasts in her hands now, kneading and pulling and pinching, as she fucked into Yaz's thighs. 

_I'm being used as a wank toy_ , floated across Yaz's mind, like clouds across an empty sky. She whimpered again, and the Doctor snickered into her neck. The Doctor's breath was hot, and then she was pressing a little kiss to the soft spot under Yaz's jaw. 

The Doctor let go of her tits, and then the Doctor was pushing the crotch of Yaz's knickers to the side. A finger probed her entrance, swirled through her wetness, then pressed all the way in. She heard an appreciative noise, and her whole body seemed to _clench_. God, had she ever been this horny? 

The Doctor slid a second finger inside of her, and her knuckles were thick and bony, where they stretched Yaz’s entrance out. Her other fingers were resting on Yaz’s arse, her inner thighs, and they seemed especially… solid, pressing into her. The fingers inside of her curled, and she bit back a moan, her hips twitching in spite of herself. 

There was a chuckle, as the fingers inside of her began to pump in and out, and the Doctor’s thumb grazed against her asshole, then slid back to dig into one of her cheeks. She was trembling, all of her tight and overheated, trying not to rock her hips, trying to remain still. She wasn’t supposed to want this, wasn’t supposed to encourage it. 

The Doctor’s fingers withdrew, and Yaz couldn’t hold back the disappointed noise. There was another chuckle, and then… oh _god_ , those fingers were shoving aside the crotch of Yaz’s knickers all over again, and the blunt head of the Doctor’s cock (and it felt so _real_ , how did that _work_?) was pressing into her. It was a slow, thick push, and her cunt welcomed it in gratefully, her body opening up for the Doctor. 

_You can have me_ , cried some part of Yaz's mind, as the Doctor hilted herself inside. _You can have me, however you want, whenever you want, wherever you want._ The logical part of her knew that was ridiculous - it was needy and stupid, not to mention exceedingly off putting. It was a lot easier to stand in front of the sink and get fucked. 

The Doctor was moaning and gasping in Yaz's ear, grunting as she shoved herself in, then pulled out. The Doctor pulled back, until only their hips were pressed together, and then the Doctor was grabbing the cheeks of her arse, holding her open. The Doctor's cock slid almost all the way out, and Yaz was painfully aware of the way the bulbous head was stretching her out, pulling her wide open for the Doctor's no doubt inquisitive gaze. 

"Would you look at that," the Doctor said under her breath, and she sounded… interested more than anything else. Not horny, not lecherous, just mildly interested. The same tone of voice she used when examining a particularly interesting rock, or a new kind of lizard. 

Yaz rolled her eyes in spite of herself. She could feel her cunt trying to draw the Doctor's dick back inside of her. Her body had less dignity than she did, and less shame. It knew what it wanted. The most she was willing to do presently was spread her legs a little wider, in hopes of encouraging the Doctor to plunge back in. 

The Doctor seemed to take the message, or maybe she just got tired of the view. She let go of Yaz's arse and shoved her cock back inside, all in one go. Her front was pressed against Yaz's back, and her chin was digging into Yaz's shoulder. One hand was groping at Yaz's breast, pinching clumsily squeezing and kneading. The other was shoved down the front of Yaz's knickers, rubbing Yaz's clit with the kind of rough desperation that made Yaz's cunt clench and flutter around the cock inside of her. 

It seemed to pulse like a real cock, and it was as warm as the Doctor's own skin. The Doctor kept on making pleased little noises with each of Yaz's internal twitches, which seemed to suggest the Doctor could feel it. Her fingers were skating lower, the heel of her hand grinding against Yaz's clit. It was all so _much_ , and Yaz was being carried away by it. She was being fucked within an inch of her life, was being used, was something for someone else's pleasure, and it was better than she had ever imagined. 

Yaz's orgasm seemed to hit her out of nowhere, although in retrospect it had been building and _building_. Her whole body seemed to go tense and tight, and her cunt clenched desperately around the cock inside of her. The pleasure throbbed though her like a migraine, leaving her knees weak as she sobbed, the first real noise she'd made since the Doctor had started fucking her. Her own wetness seemed to be drooling out of her, smearing along her thighs and mixing in with the mess that the Doctor was making against her, inside her. 

The Doctor kept fucking into her, thrusting faster. She kept rubbing Yaz's clit, and it was almost too much - Yaz clenched again, her overstimulated cunt already beginning to tense up towards another orgasm. The Doctor's fingers were delicate against her labia, as the Doctor kept grinding into Yaz's clit, twisting Yaz's nipple and kissing along Yaz's neck. 

here was an audible _squelch_ when the Doctor pulled out, and the Doctor’s hand was at Yaz's breast, pinching clumsily squeezing and kneading. The other was still rubbing Yaz’s clit, and Yaz’s back bowed, letting herself be swept into the whole of it. She let herself be taken by the pleasure, as the Doctor’s thrusting sped up. Her panting was getting louder, and then there was the sensation of… heat, a rush of more fluid smearing across her thighs, and the Doctor gave a long, gusty sigh in Yaz’s ear. 

_She came in me_ , thought Yaz, dizzy. _She came in me but she’s still hard, she’s still going, she’s going to -_

Another orgasm ripped through Yaz, and the Doctor’s cock was being pulled out of her, and she was being shoved onto the floor. She was trembling, come and slick dripping down her thighs, puddling in front of her. She blinked up at the Doctor, the jolt of her knees hitting the tile going straight up her spine. She stared up into the Doctor’s face… and saw the cock that she’d been fucked with.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Yaz said, and her voice came out as a croak. She was surprised that the Doctor could hear her over the running water.

“What?” The Doctor frowned down at her, looking sweaty and confused. 

“You seriously just… did all that with… that thing?” Yaz made a vague hand gesture at the rainbow cock in front of her. “It’s… _gaudy_.”

“Well, yes,” said the Doctor. “It’s a rainbow. Rainbow is a great color!”

“Oh my god,” Yaz said. She was slipping out of whatever headspace it was that she had been in. “I can’t believe you.”

“You believed me when I was fucking you with it,” the Doctor said, and then her hand was back on to of Yaz’s head, forcing Yaz to look up into her face. “Maybe you just don’t need to see it.” 

Yaz opened her mouth, as the Doctor pulled her face forward. She tasted her own arousal, and the bland sliminess that must have been the fake-come. _These space sex toys really are something_ , she thought distantly, as the Doctor’s hand rested on the back of her head, then; _this is like something out of a dirty movie_. 

She was drooling down her chin, and it was puddling down her collarbone, and it was cold. She let her eyes drift shut, as the Doctor’s hand stayed on her head, and her breasts were jiggling with each of the Doctor’s thrusts, Her face was being fucked, the same way her cunt had been fucked, with the same care and consideration, and the Doctor seemed to be taking obvious enjoyment from it. She was moaning and panting, and then there was another sound, and Yaz’s eyes flew open.

The Doctor was looking down at her, holding her hair with one hand, holding her phone with the other. How had the Doctor gotten her phone in the first place? But the Doctor was _filming_ her, filming her with a cock in her mouth. She was sucking cock on film, and she pressed her thighs together, rocking her own hips. She was holding her own hands behind her back, as her face was fucked, and it was being filmed, and this was like something out of her deepest, darkest fantasies, and then she was _gagging_ , as it went deeper. Her nose was running, and she probably shouldn’t have been quite so turned on by this.

The Doctor pulled out of her mouth roughly, and then she was shoving Yaz back, and she was… jerking her wet cock. “Smile for the camera,” the Doctor panted, and Yaz’s eyes were glued to her face, as it scrunched up. She loved watching the Doctor’s face in the throes of orgasm, and she was a bit sad she’d missed the first one. But oh, the Doctor’s head was tilting back, and her hips jerked forward, the camera trained shakily on Yaz’s face. There was a splash of something warm against the bridge of Yaz’s nose, and she let her eyes slide shut, as more of it spattered across one cheek, then down her chest. It was warm, like real come, and it was ticklish as it dripped down, towards her nipple. 

“That felt different,” the Doctor said, and her tone was thoughtful. She sank down on the floor next to Yaz. “Doesn’t really replicate the actual feeling much.”

“I feel like you’re one of the only people who’d be able to make that assumption,” Yaz said, and she slumped against the Doctor. Her voice was croaky from sucking the Doctor’s cock, and she was still throbbing and tender between her legs. She was going to need _such_ a shower, and the water was still running. “I think we’re lucky that the TARDIS doesn’t have a water bill,” she mumbled.

“You’re right,” the Doctor said, and then there was silence, presumably as the TARDIS got tired of the water running and turned it off. “You did good,” she added, wrapping an arm around Yaz’s shoulders and nuzzling affectionately into Yaz’s temple. “You want to see your pictures?”

“Sure,” Yaz said, faintly dazed. She still couldn’t entirely believe that had happened. She could already tell she was going to masturbate to this - the sense memory of the water against her hands as the Doctor’s cock shoved into her… she shivered, and then she frowned, as she saw the pictures the Doctor was showing her. That was indeed her picture, and that… 

“You have rainbow jizz,” Yaz said, her tone flat. She squinted down at her own chest, and she could just see the streaks of brightly colored goo across her chest. 

“Great, isn’t it?” The Doctor’s smile was genuine, as she reached out to smear a little bit of the come across Yaz’s cheek. “I had it custom made.”

Yaz sighed, and she let the Doctor’s fingers stroke across her face, post-coital exhaustion beginning to settle into her bones. “Of course you did,” she said, but she was smiling as she said it.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember those liquid lollipops, squeeze pops? That's what the come from that dildo is like. Minus the sugar/flavoring, of course.


End file.
